A Light in the Dark
by SilentElla
Summary: Del finds herself trapped in a closet, a single dead man outside. Just as she's about to succumb to dehydration, she hears a thud. The closet doors fly open, and the next thing she knows strong arms lift her up, the scent of pine and gasoline washing over her. "I got you, don't worry," says an unfamiliar voice. "Name's Daryl." Rated "M" for language, violence, sex.
1. Chapter 1 - Trapped

So this is how everything ends. After all the running, after all the blood shed involving both the dead and the living this is it. I suppose starving to death in a closet with a single dead man outside isn't the worst way to go in this world. I think I remember some show saying that humans can't survive more than three days without water. The same show said that a human could survive for up to thirty days with enough water, but no food.

Thank God I don't have either food or water. Another day is all I could have at most.

I slumped uncomfortably in the dark, too weak to even shift my position and restore circulation to my left leg. Even when we had our safe place, safe from the dead men, I had terrible dreams. They were the kind of dreams that left me afraid to sleep. I never complained to anyone, I just moved through my days leadenly. When people asked about the dark circles under my eyes I just laughed it off, asking them if they had any tips for beauty sleep in the apocalypse.

The dead man had stopped hammering on the closet door, so at least now dozing was a possibility. But the darkness seemed to elevate my other senses; namely hearing and smell. The rank smell of death that I'd come to know so well enveloped me completely, while every breath the dead man took rattled in my ears. Sometimes it let out a soft grunt or a moan. I think this one had been dead for a while and indoors – it was all shriveled and probably didn't have much fight left. If I'd had any weapon I could probably have killed it. If I wasn't so dehydrated and exhausted I probably could have leapt out of the closet, tackled the dead man and smashed its head against the floor boards. But in my state, none of these things were an option.

Is there any point in struggling to survive? I've worked so hard, so what feels like so little in return. I'm so tired. Even at the best of times all you can hope for a jar of pickled pigs' feet with the seal still intact. It's probably better this way. Going this way would be better than the way my mother died. She died saving my sister Jana and I. In retrospect, maybe she just staved off the inevitable for some months.

There were barely two spaces left in the military evacuation vehicle – already stuffed overcapacity with women and children. People were even clinging to the roof. Luggage, backpacks, and even purses lay strewn on the ground beside the truck, discarded in an attempt to fit the remaining refugees on the last evacuation vehicle. The dead men were closing in on the last three of us left standing outside the truck – I, my mother, and my sister Jana. "Go! Just leave us! We can't leave one of us alone to die with these monsters!" I yelled over the clamour to the guy in military gear doing his best to organize the operation. Jana was silent – she'd always hated conflict, so the end of the world wasn't treating her so well. Then my mother suddenly hugged us more intensely than she had ever hugged us in her entire life. I felt her suddenly suck in a great lungful of air, suppressing a sob.

"Everything is going to be fine – look after one another. I love you with all my heart. This is my second chance to give you life." And before we could stop her, or even knew what was happening, she turned sharply, and without glancing back, she purposefully strode into the swarm of dead men. Two men in military gear pushed Jana and I into the military vehicle, the other passengers holding Jana and I in as our feet dangled outside. I don't remember hearing my mother scream. I hope someone found her, and I hope someone put her down.

I'm wakened suddenly from my half-sleep by a loud thud – the rhythmic rattle of the dead man's breathing interrupted. The closet doors fly open, and a bright light shines into my eyes through the darkness, blinding me. I reach up weakly to shield my eyes. I try to speak, but I can't – I'm too weak and dehydrated. All that I can manage is a small, "_Help_". The next thing I know, strong arms lift me up, the scent of pine and gasoline washing over me. "I got you, don't worry," says an unfamiliar voice. "Name's Daryl."

I don't see his face. I don't know if he means me harm, or whether he is my saving grace. Either way it doesn't matter – my eyelids flutter closed and I lose myself into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2 - C'mon

"Come on, girl. Drink," said the unfamiliar voice.

I feel a bottle pressed to my lips and take a few grateful sips. My body is propped up by the man's shoulder, one of his hands supporting the small of my back, the other one holding the bottle.

Coming out of my daze a little, I sit up, and am immediately overwhelmed by a coughing fit.

"Keep it down!" the man hissed.

It's completely dark in the room, with just the faint light of a full moon illuminating a patch of the floor. I quietly grab the bottle and drain it. The liquid tastes sweet – probably water mixed with sugar or something. At least this guy seems to know basic first aid.

I look around. Just outside the patch of light I see a smear of blood where he must have put down the dead man. The dead man is gone – probably dragged outside. Maybe this is a sign the stranger intends to stay here a while? I also see a nearly full pack and what must be a crossbow. I've never seen a crossbow before. I wonder how practical a weapon it could be in the apocalypse? I mean, how often would you come across ammo . . . arrows, I guess they're called? It would be a quiet weapon, which is a major advantage since noise attracts the dead men. It must be a good choice. This guy seemed to know what he was doing.

I could see him leaning by the door of the small store front we were in, keeping it closed with his body weight. He'd pushed what was once a steel display unit up against the door, but just the unit itself probably wouldn't be sufficient to stop a group of dead men, or even just one that was really determined. I see a shadow momentarily obscure the light of the moon coming in through the window, and I hear the familiar rattling breath and the aimless shuffling of feet. The man leaning against the door puts his finger to his lips, then signals for me to lie down. Normally, I wouldn't just blindly obey anybody, but these were special circumstances. Plus, what other option did I really have at this point? I lay back, fully expecting to feel floorboards beneath my head. Instead, my head hits something soft and welcoming. It feels like well-worn wool. The smell of pine and the faint smell of gasoline wash over me again.

Laying on what I assume is a folded sweater, my mind starts to wander. I wish I could see more of the stranger sitting in front of the door. His arms are crossed and his head is hung, his chin resting on his chest. I know it sounds corny, but I feel like I can tell a lot by looking someone in the eyes. I couldn't even catch a glimpse of the stranger's face; long shaggy dark hair that reaches almost to his chin hides his face from my view. At least this stranger seems to be kind. He could easily have just left me in the closet. But you just never know in this world. Even before the dead men you couldn't really trust anyone, no matter who they were. Now that it was the end of world, people only seemed to have gotten worse.

I guess the stranger plans to stay here until it's light out. I wonder if this man has a camp. If so, I wonder if he's with a group and what they're like. The most important thing: does his group accept outsiders? I wish I had more marketable skills for the apocalypse – I'd already effectively been denied from one group for not "bringing anything for exchange". They had hinted that there was something I could exchange with the men in the camp, but I'd rather be alone than in a group who'd suggest that. I felt terrible for the people who must have been forced to accept that offer. Many of the people I'd met along the way have been even more woefully unprepared for the apocalypse than me. At least I knew the basics of wilderness survival; I'd learned them somewhat begrudgingly from being dragged on several camping trips during the phase of my life dedicated to boys with dreadlocks.

I open my eyes to a gray dawn. I have no idea how long I've slept. The stranger is still leaning against the door, head down, presumably asleep. I focus on something right in front of me – an open can of tuna with a bit missing and a half-eaten sleeve of cookies. He must have left these out for me. Rule number one of the apocalypse, never waste food. My fingers are filthy, but I'm so hungry I don't care. I scoop the tuna into my mouth and then start on the cookies.

The stranger stirs, and looks up sharply towards the window. Everything seems quiet outside. He rises silently and walks around the small store front, peering out the windows. It's basically a single room with two doors. One was presumably a small office but there is something blocking the door from the other side. The other door was the small (and empty) supply closet I'd thought would be my above-ground coffin. He must have decided it was quiet enough outside because he finally speaks.

"You alone?"

I guess that's pretty obvious at this point – no point in lying. If the stranger had any ill intentions, he'd had ample time to execute them.

"Yes."

"You looking to join up with some people?"

"It depends what kind of people."

"How many walkers have you killed?"

"Six."

"How many people have you killed?"

Does my mother count? I blame myself for her death. I should have stopped her and found another way. I'm not ready to tell that story to this man I only just met – and I don't think that would count as killing in his mind. He sees me hesitate.

"None."

"You don't seem so sure."

"No, I'm sure."

"You got a name?"

"My name's Delphine, but people mostly call me Del."

"Hmm."

He starts rummaging in his pack. He ties it up and slings it over one shoulder. He starts toward me, crossbow in hand. He reaches behind me and shakes open what was my wool pillow and slips it over his head. It's a poncho. The man's got style.

"Uh . . . do you have a name, mister?"

"Mister?" The corner of his mouth curls up as he repeats the word. I guess he isn't used to being addressed with a title.

"Yeah. Name's Daryl. I guess you didn't catch it earlier."

"Is there anything I should know about this group we're going to meet?"

"They're good people. Everybody's got a job to do – you got any skills?"

"I . . ." Somehow I didn't think he'd be impressed if I listed my mediocre academic performance as a biology student, the random assortment of survival skills I'd picked up, and the fact I'd completed level one of swing dance lessons. "I can cook. I used to teach community classes to kids too. I have some first aid training too, I guess." I desperately hoped it was enough to be considered for his group.

" 'Kay. Can you walk with that ankle?"

I'd almost completely forgotten about my ankle – it was horribly swollen. I couldn't even tie up my shoe. It was the reason I'd gotten trapped in the closet in the first place. I had just been walking through the forest, staying off the roads, when I tripped over a tree root. Unbelievable! The dead rise up to feed on the living, and I'm done in by a sprained ankle. Typical. Anyways, I'd managed to find this little store front. I limped in to check it out, hoping for food an water. It had already been looted. I dropped my bag (which didn't have much in it, anyways) and my knife belt. It was a stupid move on my part, because the next thing I knew a dead man was shambling toward me at top speed. The only thing I could think to do was to duck into the supply closet.

"More or less. If it's a choice between staying here and hopping, I'll wear a set of ears if you like."

Daryl cracks a full smile.

"A comedian too, huh? Alright. I got my bike just outside. It's not far."

He gestures toward my empty looking bag, "Yours?"

I nod.

"I got it."

He slings both his crossbow and my bag over his free shoulder.

"C'mon."

We push the steel display case out of the way without too much noise. Daryl goes out first and signals for me to follow. I follow as quickly as I can to his bike, which is mercifully close. He stows his crossbow into one of the saddle bags and my small pack into the other.

"You're gonna have to wear this for the ride," he says, handing me his large pack.

When he sees I nearly collapse under the weight of the pack, he quickly takes it back.

"Alright. Sit on the back of the bike." I straddle the bike awkwardly as he slips the pack onto my shoulders, the bulk of the weight resting on the seat behind me. He expertly mounts the bike ahead of me. I see a few dead men off in the distance stumbling in our direction.

"Hold on," Daryl says. I wrap my hands around his waist as he starts up the bike. A motorcycle accident was probably a better way to go than by the dead men. I pressed my body against his, resting my cheek against the warn wool of the poncho as he kicks off.


	3. Chapter 3 - Introductions

Author's note: Thanks so much for reading this far! I always appreciate comments and suggestions via comment or PM. My goal for this series is to write a quality story (in terms of plot and writing – let me know when I'm succeeding and let me know when I'm failing). This romance is going to be a slow burn . . . the way Daryl would have wanted it. I'm going to try to stay in character for most of the GN and television series characters as possible. Have patience, and enjoy the ride. I've got some great plans once I have these characters established!

The ride was long, but I was just happy to have found another person. Daryl weaved expertly between both car wrecks and the dead men alike. The rolling countryside was beautiful, punctuated only occasionally by the dead. We'd been taking back roads for the most part, avoiding the highways. Finally, we turn up a winding dirt road just after passing a mid-sized town that seemed abandoned. I see dead men here and there as we follow the road up into some hills.

Soon, we pull up to a set of wrought iron gates. They must have been over twelve feet tall. There were a half dozen dead men closing in around us, drawn by the noise of the bike. Daryl's weapon of choice makes the least noise, yet he rides one of the loudest vehicles. A man with close cut hair and broad shoulders throws the gates open as a sinewy woman wearing a head wrap runs forward and deftly knives the two closest dead men as we roll the bike in.

Daryl swings off his bike. He calls over to a blond girl, who looks to be around eleven or twelve years old.

"Lizzie! Come over and meet Del."

She's a serious looking child – but after everything I imagine she has been through in these past 16 months, I can understand why.

"Lizzie – this is Del. Can you take her to see Carson? Take it easy with her."

"Yes, sir."

Daryl tried (and failed) to suppress his reaction to being called 'sir' again.

"Hi Lizzie! It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too ma'am."

"You can just call me Del, sweetheart."

"Carol says we have to be keep with being polite, and say ma'am and sir to people we don't know."

"Carol sounds like a smart woman. Alright, lead the way."

Lizzie turns and I'm about to follow her when I feel something gently nudge my arm. I look around and it's Daryl nudging me with the small pack I'd forgotten in one of his saddle bags. He's positioned himself in the oddest way – as if he's afraid to get close to me. His well-defined arm holding the bag is fully extended, his torso leaning forward with his feet firmly planted the maximum possible distance they could be from me. I think I can see him looking at me through the shag of dark brown hair. I don't know how he's managing it, but somehow he's looking at me without really _looking_ at me.

"Hey – thanks." He responds by giving me a curt nod. At least I think he gave me a nod – but I might have just been reading too much into some kind of involuntary neck twitch. Daryl quickly turned on heel and strode off toward the gates, presumably to help the two others take care of few dead men milling about. Shit! I never got the chance to thank him for getting me out of that closet and bringing me here.

"Ma'am? It's this way!" Says an impatient looking Lizzie. She probably has a busy schedule.

I guess I'll get a chance to thank Daryl later – he looks busy now. I turn to follow Lizzie just as I see him jam his knife into a dead man's temple.

I follow Lizzie silently through the rest of the yard. It's kind of a perfect set up. It's a huge area completely surrounded by a massive stone wall. There are beautiful old trees lining the perimeter inside. Some of them are fruit trees – I see limes, peaches, and an avocado tree. Ahead of us is a massive stone building with beautiful stained glass windows. How funny, the last place I thought I would ever end up is a church. We enter through what must have been the main worship hall. Most of the pews have been removed to make room for tables. One corner of the church is decorated with the banner "Kid's Korner". Underneath the banner I see two young children playing with some blocks and a blond girl sitting with an infant on her lap. Lizzie and I pass through the room and along a hallway. We turn into what looks to have been a small reception hall. It's been turned into a makeshift infirmary. There are two mattresses on the floor, one of them occupied by someone wearing a facemask and breathing heavily through their mouth. A flu is terrible under normal circumstances, but at a time like this?

"Uh sir?"

"If I have to tell you one more time to call me by my name, I'm gonna come after you!"

Lizzie stiffened.

"This is Del. Daryl found her."

"Well, thank you kindly for bringing her my way little lady. You run along now and make me some mud pies! I'll be sure and look after your new friend Del."

Lizzie quickly left the room. She seems like a bit of an odd duck. Maybe she'll warm up once she gets to know me.

The doctor had a slow southern drawl, with an unmistakably upper class twang. He was wearing what looked to be a pair of scrubs with tucked-in button down shirt. A stethoscope swayed on his neck as he walked toward me holding a clip board. He's trying awfully hard to look the part, considering the circumstances. At this point I probably would have trusted Lizzie to look me over.

The doctor's hair is black and neatly parted on the side. It's combed back and has a natural wave to it. He puts on an easy smile, flashing a set of teeth that looked an unnatural shade of white. He settles his piercing brown eyes on me with an air of casual confidence.

"Name please?"

"Delphine. Call me Del, though."

"I'm Dr. Carson. No last name, darlin'?"

No one had asked for my last name since this all began.

"Lang."

"May I ask who referred you to us?"

"Daryl, I guess?"

I can't figure out what to make of him. Is he going to ask me for an insurance card? The doctor shifts uncomfortably as he sees his joke fell flat.

"Right. Well, uh, what are your principle complaints?"

"Umm. I guess I was trapped in a closet for a couple of days without food or water and I'm pretty sure I sprained ankle. I probably just need rest."

"I'll be the judge of that. Lift your shirt please."

I lift my shirt so that he can listen to my heart.

"All the way up please."

I give him a puzzled look, but I do as he says. He's a doctor, so I'm sure he's seen this a million times. I lift my shirt so that my plain black bra is visible. He places his stethoscope below my breast, then above it. I thought I remembered doctors listening to your heart beneath the breast – not over it. Does this guy know what he's doing? I'm sure he's not going to appreciate pointers from me. He takes a pen light out of his breast pocket. He takes my chin firmly, shining the light in each eye.

"Lie down, leave the shirt up."

I lie down. He starts palpitating my stomach.

"Sit up."

As soon as I sit up he immediately sticks a digital thermometer in my mouth. While waiting for the temperature reading he attaches a manual blood pressure cuff. After inflating and deflating it several times, he gives up.

"Huh. I'll have to ask the next group on a run to find a new blood pressure cuff."

"I usually have pretty low blood pressure."

He whips the thermometer out of my mouth, barely looking at it.

"Well, you seem to be in pretty good shape little lady. Good thing we brought you in when we did. Be sure to drink lots of water and rest up for the next couple of days. You should be just fine."

"Um, sorry, but maybe I forgot to mention my ankle? I think it's probably just sprained, but I'd really appreciate you taking a look at it."

Dr. Carson looks down at my foot, my unlaced boot hanging off it. It's still terribly swollen.

"Yeck. Yeah, that looks like a sprain. Can you move it and walk on it?"

"It hurts a lot, so I limp."

"Here, I have a chemical cold pack. Just twist it to break the seal. Go get yourself a nice romance novel from the library, a drink, and keep the foot elevated for the next couple of days."

"Great, thanks."

"Pleasure to meet you Ms. Lang. Come by for another check-up in a day or two."

"Right, sure."

I leave the infirmary and head back out to the courtyard. On my way I see a barrel labelled "Drinking – no rinsing!". I remember the empty water bottle in my bag, and refill it twice. I move over to a shaded area underneath a peach tree. I lean against the trunk and close my eyes. For the first time in a long time, I relax.

I hear a soft thud. Looking over beside me, I see a newly fallen, ripe peach.

Perfect.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Good Doctor

This group had seemed to good to be true – and it was.

It had been just over a week, and my ankle was finally starting to feel better. It wasn't anywhere near 100%, but at least I could easily put some weight on it. During the week I'd been here, I'd gotten to know the group a bit. They all seemed like nice enough people, but I mostly just helped with the chores and kept to myself. I've never been the most social person.

Overall I'd seen very little of Daryl. At the moment he was out on a run with Michonne. She was someone you couldn't miss: she almost always had her katana sword slung across her back, and she had the most dramatic and beautiful dreadlocked hair – a savvy hairstyle choice in the apocalypse. Daryl and Michonne were often out on runs together. I really hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Daryl at all since he brought me here – and no chance to thank him.

I was sitting in the courtyard, having just finished with the laundry. The familiar rumbling of a motorcycle prompted me to jog over and open the gate. Michonne had already glided off the back of the bike, casually skewering one dead man through the eye socket, decapitating another dead man as she swung her sword out of the first one. Truly, she made the apocalypse look cool. Daryl rolled his bike in, Michonne following him.

"How was the run?"

Michonne answered me.

"Pretty good. We re-stocked on all the medical supplies we were missing, but the real jackpot was finding cans of icing."

"Glad to hear it!"

Daryl finally focused his attention on me. I was pretty sure I bored him.

"Ankle any better?"

"Yeah, thanks. I'm supposed to see Doc Carson later today."

"Good."

Alright. Daryl's terrible at small talk. Or he _definitely_ finds me boring.

"I never got a chance to thank you for bringing me here – so thanks. I love it."

'Thanks' doesn't seem quite appropriate for saving someone's life. We should invent a word for this world to thank someone for saving a life. It would probably get used a lot considering circumstances.

"Welcome." Daryl turns to his bike, fiddling with something near the tail pipe.

Alright. That's the end of that conversation. Whatever. I should probably go see if Dr. Carson to check on my ankle. I decide to direct my last question to Michonne, as Daryl doesn't seem inclined to talk.

"Okay, I'm on my way to the infirmary, do you have anything you want me to bring in?"

"Nah, don't worry about. We'll make the trip there once we've sorted everything out here."

I came into the infirmary to find only Dr. Carson. Happily, his patient from the week before had made a full recovery. His wife Caroline, who often assisted him, wasn't there either. She was probably off somewhere sunning herself, casually gliding her nail file back and forth. It's not like she had any special qualifications in medicine; I suspected helping in the infirmary was simply less objectionable to her than any of the other jobs at hand.

Dr. Carson flashed his smile, in what I'm sure he thought was a winning way.

"How are you feeling? Still having trouble sleeping?"

I'd never told him about my sleep problems. He seemed to have the recall of a goldfish – one that was none too swift at that.

"It's just my ankle. You said it was a sprain. I think it's almost healed. I can put weight on it with only some pain. Did you want to look at it Dr. Carson?"

"Please! You've been here a week. Call me Ted."

"Sure."

I must have seemed unconvinced, because he followed up his last comment with:

"I mean, you should be on a first name basis with someone who's seen your tits."

Well, that's a weird fucking thing for a doctor to say. Just as I'm processing what he said, Dr. Carson walks swiftly to the door and closes it silently. The he rounds on me, putting his hand on my thigh.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?"

Without saying anything, I push his hand away. Jesus Christ, what do I do now?

"You know, I see you looking at me. Even other people in the group have noticed. I don't blame you, I did a few modelling spreads back in the day."

I never looked at him. Still, I keep my gaze fixed on the floor. I feel him step closer.

"Haven't you always dreamed of seducing your doctor?"

At this point I am pressed against the wall, while Dr. Carson is doing his best to look casual.

"You know what? Thanks for your time; I really think my ankle is fine. I'm just going to – "

Suddenly, he pins me against the wall with his hips, one of his hands closing on my throat.

"You want this. You want me! Who else in this pathetic group could you be with?"

I feel his hand reaching underneath my shirt, his breath growing heavy. Somehow, my body finally snaps out of its daze and reacts. Without thinking it through, I raise my arm and hit him hard in the face with my pointed elbow. He stumbles back, blood trickling down from between his hands that are now cupped over his nose. Despite him making his horrifying intentions crystal clear, I stood, staring in shock at what I'd done.

"You bitch! You broke my nose! I paid $15,000 for this nose. Are you stupid? I was doing you a _favour_. Do you think I would normally be interested in someone like you? Models throw themselves at me! Someone who looks like you doesn't usually even get to _dream_ of being with someone like me."

Still in shock, I opened the door and quickly walked down the hall. I heard him call after me,

"You better just leave. No one is going to stand for you assaulting the group's doctor. Prudish, plain brunettes are everywhere. You can't say the same of doctors!"

I find my way to the second floor of the church to where I'd set up my bed and things in one of the office. I pack my bag quickly, my hands still shaking. Thankfully everyone seemed to be occupied with something else. Without saying a word to anyone, I ran through the church and around the back. I knew Daryl and Michonne were probably still in the courtyard, along with the children playing. I didn't want to answer anyone's questions. I find what I'm looking for – the tree with the low branches next to the back wall of the courtyard. I climb it nimbly, and jump down to the other side of the wall, wincing only slightly as I land.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Council

One of the dead men shambles toward me. Just as he is almost on top of me, I knife him in the temple. I start running even before he's dropped. I remember the small town we passed on the way here – maybe I can find my way there. I'm sure it's been picked over since this group established itself in the church, but at least I should be able to find some shelter for the night.

With the stone walls of the church out of sight, slow to a walk and continue in the direction that I assume the town is in. I pass groups of dead men, but I mostly slip by them without attracting too much attention. I walk for maybe an hour, but I'm slow since my ankle isn't completely healed.

I hear quick and heavy footsteps behind me. My stomach turns, expecting to see Dr. Carson coming to finish what he started.

Instead, I turn to see Daryl, doubled over and clearly winded.

"You . . . You gonna tell me what happened?" He says, completely out of breath.

"Nothing. I'm just better on my own. My ankle's almost better, and I'm never going in another closet without adult supervision again."

"Nothing?" His eyes are narrowed to slits, but I could see their beautiful blue-gray colour through his overgrown hair.

He's obviously spoken to Dr. Carson. I'm silent – waiting for him to unleash on me for breaking the good Doctor's nose.

"I don't know what Carson said to you, but he had that broken nose comin'."

"It's not what he said, he . . . tried to force himself on me."

I was sure Daryl wouldn't believe what had happened. I was sure no one at the church would believe what had happened. Even if they did want to believe me, it came down to a doctor's word against mine. It didn't matter what was true. Dr. Carson was right about one thing: he was a valuable commodity in the apocalypse, despite his personality.

"You alright? Did he . . . ?"

"No, I caught him with my elbow once he had me pinned against the wall."

Daryl was quiet for a minute. He paced, his arms crossed, and his head bowed, apparently deep in thought. Finally, he paused, and spoke:

"Would you want to come back?"

"Not if Dr. Carson is there. I'm sure if the group has to choose between having me around and having a trained doctor, it's not going to be much of a contest."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of Carson. If the council doesn't decide to throw him out, I will."

"What about a doctor for the group?"

Daryl snorted.

"Carson's not even much of a doctor – he mostly did Botox injections before all this. I think he's even afraid of blood. Besides, Bob's an army medic. He probably has more experience than Carson."

"Alright, if you think it's worth a shot."

We turn and walk back to the church together.

"So, what made you come out here?" I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Looking for you, Holly Golightly."

I give him a quizzical look, partly because I'm confused by the _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ reference and partly because I'm surprised he knows it. I'm not convinced it's really an appropriate nickname for me. I do have brown hair, but my hair is never as perfect Audrey Hepburn's, and definitely not interested in climbing any social ladders.

Surprisingly, Daryl continues:

"I went back to the infirmary to drop what we found on the run, and I saw Carson's face. He said somethin' 'bout you just going nuts and attacking him. Didn't sound right, so I figured I might as well get a walk in and see what you were up to."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I knew you didn't leave outta the front gates, so I looked for the best place to jump the fence. When I saw that fresh walker outside the back wall I just followed your trail."

"Huh."

I still wasn't convinced that the group would choose me over Dr. Carson, but Daryl seemed pretty sure. I guess as long as Daryl was looking out for me, it would be all right. In the worst case, I could stay one more night and leave in the morning.

We reached the back wall of the courtyard. As I was about to follow the wall around to the main gate, Daryl stops, clasps his hands and holds them out expectantly at about knee height. I put my good foot into hands and he thrusts me upward so that my hands grab the top of the wall. He keeps pushing up as I scramble up and straddle the wall. I don't think Audrey Hepburn would be caught dead in this situation.

"What? You gonna leave me out here with the walkers?"

"Oh! I'm sorry – I wasn't thinking!"

Embarrassed that I hadn't thought to reach down and help him up, I quickly bent to grab his hand while bracing myself against the walls using my legs and free arm. My hand closed on his. It felt huge and calloused – it also looked filthy. Then again, my hand wasn't doing much better in the cleanliness department. He handily reached the top of the wall, barely pausing before he jumped down. He turned back once he landed, positioning himself beneath me raising his arms.

"Didn't think this through – you probably shouldn't be jumping onto that ankle."

My legs found his hands. I gingerly pushed myself off the edge of the wall and slid down into his arms. I liked the feeling of his firm grasp around my waist. But just as soon as I was steady on my feet, he immediately let his hands fall and turned in the direction of the church.

Without breaking pace, Daryl turned his head slightly catching my eye over his shoulder.

"You comin'?"

"Where are we going?"

"Find Rick."

I didn't know Rick well. Even though a council comprised of the people who'd been with the group the longest made the major decisions, he seemed to be who everyone looked to for answers. I knew he had a son Carl and a daughter Judith. Beyond that, I didn't know anything. Rick seemed completely absorbed in himself. I'd heard from Beth that he hadn't been the same since he'd lost his wife.

"Rick, you got a minute?"

"Yeah, what can I do for you Daryl?"

Daryl folded his arms and nodded toward me. I told Rick what happened with Dr. Carson.

"Alright, well, I don't know either of you well personally, and it's his word against yours. Daryl, what do you think?"

"I say we kick that son of a bitch out."

Although I didn't completely understand why Daryl was siding with me so steadfastly, I definitely appreciated it.

"I say we bring it to the council."

Within 15 minutes, Rick and Daryl had assembled the council members within the upper hall. I recognized most of the faces – though it was still difficult to put a name to some. There was Michonne, Carol, Glenn, Bob, and Sasha. No one seemed to have noticed, but Beth had slipped into the back of the room. Of course, Daryl, Rick, and Dr. Carson, and a bored looking Caroline were present. Dr. Carson was wearing his 'winning' grin again – and completely avoiding making any kind of eye contact with me. It was somewhat satisfying to his nose was swollen and there was a bruise forming under one of his eyes.

Rick started the meeting:

"All right, so as some of you may be aware, we had an incident earlier today between Dr. Carson and Del. Unfortunately, there were no witnesses, and essentially all we have as evidence is Dr. Carson's injuries here, and both his and Del's version of-"

Dr. Carson interrupted Rick with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I think this was just all a terrible misunderstanding. Of course, I am more than happy to forgive my injuries and Del's unfortunate lapse in judgment. She's probably still suffering from the effects of her injuries."

Rick looks at me for a response. I see Daryl leaning against the wall, with a look that says _I got your back_. Taking a deep breath, present my side of the story.

"It _wasn't_ a misunderstanding – you made your intentions very clear when you pinned me against the wall and wouldn't let me leave."

Dr. Carson rolled his eyes and looked at me condescendingly.

"You see, everyone? Look at the dilated pupils? At the very worst she's lying, and at the very best the poor child is suffering from hysteria."

I could feel tears rising. I didn't have a retort.

"I don't want to do this – I'm just going to go."

As I turned I heard a small voice from the back of the room.

"He tried the same thing with me."

I froze. Everyone's gaze turned to fall on Beth, the pretty, blond, shy girl who looked after Judith. Dr. Carson started turning red. His wife Caroline looked speechless.

"This-this is ridiculous!"

Rick held up his hand authoritatively to silence Dr. Carson.

"Is this true Beth?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why didn't you come forward before?"

"He told me no one would believe me if I tried to tell anyone he kissed me. I just didn't want to make any trouble. It was just a kiss."

Almost without warning, Dr. Carson lunged at me.  
_

Author's note: Please review! I love your reviews and they encourage me to write more!


	6. Chapter 6 - Aftermath

Everything happened so quickly.

Dr. Carson had lunged at me, arms outstretched, hands reaching for anything he could grab on to. I must have gone into shock, because I couldn't understand what he was yelling. All my focus was on his hands – one wrenching my head back by my hair, the other grasping the collar of by buttoned shirt.

The next thing I knew his hands were gone, and Dr. Carson was laid out unconscious on the floor, with Rick standing over him, the butt of a pistol still in his raised hand.

Caroline was the colour of a sheet – well, a pre-end-of-the-world sheet. For some reason, she turned to Beth and started screaming.

"You whore! How could you steal another man's wife? You're a nasty little home-wrecker! I can see it in your eyes. I've seen you making eyes at my husband. You must have all seen it? Bouncing around with her stupid blond hair – ever since your last boyfriend died Ted's all you can think about! Admit it!"

To my surprise, Beth calmly stood her ground. Seeing her words were having little effect, Caroline slapped Beth hard across the face. He must have been anticipating the violence, because just as Caroline was raising her hand to strike Beth again, Daryl was already behind her. He caught her wrist.

Shocked, Caroline whirled around. For a moment it looked like she was considering having a go at Daryl. He just stood there, holding her wrist without saying a word. Then, tears started to well up in her eyes and her body went limp. She sobbed weakly, and left the room head in hands. Daryl didn't seem like the type to lend a shoulder to cry on – and he wasn't. He gave Beth one of curt nods and turned to Carson, who seemed to be coming to.

Time passed – it was pretty uneventful at the church after Dr. Carson's departure. Caroline mostly kept to herself. Bob Stookey had taken over medic duties, and to Caroline's disappointment he did not feel he required an assistant. To Caroline's dismay, she was relegated to dish duty (but only after one _horrific _attempt at making lunch for group). I had been worried about the group kicking out their doctor, but by all accounts he was more able than Dr. Carson. For one thing, Bob actually _remembered _why you were seeing him, and he didn't turn green at the sight of blood.

Since my friendship with Beth, I'd started working with the children quite a bit. They were fun and cute. I played games, and I even taught them a few lessons. I mostly read stories from whatever books had been scavenged on runs and we did the occasional science lesson.

After what had happened at their last safe place – a prison – the group had decided to plan for the inevitable. No matter how safe and secure somewhere seems in this world, either it always eventually gets overrun, disaster strikes, or someone bigger and meaner wants it. When the prison fell, the group didn't have a safe house planned. They all went in separate directions and only met up by chance. They'd all found some old maps posted that followed train tracks, figuring that everyone else would follow the maps if they saw them as well. Unbelievably, many of them met up and then found this place. The place the maps had been leading them to was a dead end. Whoever had posted those maps was long gone.

So this time, they'd set up a safe house. Twice a week, small groups went to check the safe house. They'd stocked it with some food, and anything extra we hadn't needed at the church (extra blankets, basic medical supplies, extra clothing). They checked it partly to see if other survivors had made their way there and partly to be sure the house itself and the supplies were still intact. It wasn't much, and certainly wasn't a long term solution, but at least it was a rendezvous point. One of the other big reasons they went to check the house in the small groups was to make sure everyone could find it easily – _especially_ the children.

I hadn't been out to the safe house since I'd arrived at the church, mostly because of the ankle. But now my ankle was healed. I liked these people. I liked this group – and I didn't want to be left behind.

"Hey, Rick." I found him working in the garden he'd started. It was mid-summer, and there were squashes, melons, soya beans, and tomatoes that were nicely ripened.

"Hi Del. You interested in gardening?"

"Sure – but I was actually coming to ask about the safe house. My ankle is better, and I'd really like to know where it is."

"Sounds like a good idea. Actually, I think Daryl is planning to go tomorrow if you want to go along with him. Here – take these. I think they'll be important to pick up at the safe house if we ever have to re-locate without warning." Rick put a few envelopes of seeds in my hands. "Daryl will show you where to put them."

We didn't get started until about mid-morning – there was a pile-up at the fences, and we had to wait for the dead men to be cleared. The group had elected Lizzie and Mika to make the trip to the safe house with us. They had been to the safe house twice before, and the idea was that this time they would lead us without assistance. The group had learned well from their past experiences. Even the children were being prepared for the possibility of being alone.

A big part of the reason this safe house had been selected was for because of the landmarks long the way – easy enough for a child to follow, even in the dark. Even if I'd never been taken to the safe house, I think I would have been able to find it given a description. It was about a half-day walk from the church. After leaving the church you had to head straight out from the back until you hit a creek. Once you hit the creek, you just followed it against with the current until you reached the safe house.

We walked through the forest, following a creek. No one spoke for most of the journey. The children seemed happy, playful even (given that Lizzie was usually so solemn). There were berries along the way – the fast food of the apocalypse.

What had started out as a breezy summer day in Georgia had turned into a grey afternoon, the air thick with humidity. We were all growing sticky, hot, and tired. Finally, the sky opened up releasing fat raindrops. There was nothing be done but to continue on toward our destination. For a bit, the rain was welcome. It cooled the hot air and washed away some of our seemingly ever-present grime. The bugs that had been biting us took shelter from the rain under leaves while we continued on. By the time we had reached the safe house, we were all drenched and chilled. To their credit, neither Mika nor Lizzie complained. I felt badly for the children – while my memories of creature comforts were still strong, their reality had been completely saturated with the discomforts of this world. They were used to being dirty, to be being cold, to damp clothing, so they knew it was pointless to complain. This was just another vaguely unpleasant situation for them, yet far less unpleasant than so many other experiences. Daryl seemed undisturbed by the change in weather. I didn't know much about his life before the dead rose, but judging from his cross-bow and hunting abilities, he probably felt more at home outside in the rain than he did at a dinner table with a cloth napkin across his lap.

We reached the safe house without incident. There wasn't much to it – it was more of a shack than a house. It was probably abandoned well before the world changed. It stood alone, and there were no roads leading to it. The isolation of the house was ideal – it was less likely for either the dead or the living to stumble on it unknowingly. Entering the house, everyone went to work. Lizzie and Mika started checking the cupboards. The only thing hidden in the cupboards were wool blankets – a nice commodity, but certainly the least important of the supplies hidden in the cabin. Daryl pried up a floorboard underneath the lone piece of furniture in the place – a surprisingly sturdy metal table surrounded by 3 chairs with torn vinyl upholstery. Hidden underneath the floor was a small medical supply kit plus some canned and dry food. Not much, but these were the essentials that would keep people alive for a few days. It was still pouring rain outside and we were all chilled. With the sky beginning to darken we decided to stay at the house for the night. There was a surplus of blankets so we were able to construct make-shift beds. The two girls shared a blanket bed while Daryl and I each had our own.

"I'ma take first watch."

While Daryl sat alone out front of the house, I introduced the girls to the three-word story game. To play, we sat in a circle around a few candles we'd found, each taking turns adding three words to create a story.

"The little caterpillar,"

"ate its way,"

"through my mother's,"

"entire garden. She,"

"said she-"

Daryl interrupted the game. He had scuttled into the house quietly closing the door behind him and hooking the simple lock behind him. It was the simply kind of lock you might find on an outhouse door. Now that I looked at the door, the old wooden boards didn't look much sturdier than an outhouse door.

Without asking, I knew what was probably happening outside. I licked my thumb and forefinger, pinching the candles to extinguish them. Daryl was pointing Lizzie and Mika into the cupboard that held the extra blankets.

"Stay quiet, and keep the door closed. If you keep it closed, the walkers won't find you. Don't open the door until we come and get you. Try to sleep – might have to stay here until morning."

Mika looked terrified, but she understood. Lizzie simply nodded with an eerie calmness and closed the cupboard door on herself and her sister. The cupboard door had some kind of catch on the inside, so it would stay tightly closed until someone pulled or pushed on it. Daryl motioned to me to follow him and stay low. As I followed Daryl across the room to a closet, I looked out the window. In the moonlight I could see at least 15 shadowy figures shambling aimlessly in the direction of the house. It didn't look like they'd spotted us. Hopefully they wouldn't take an interest in the house and they would pass by the cabin like water around a rock.

I followed Daryl into the closet, closing the door behind us. It must have been a pantry at some point. Happily, someone – probably the group – had thought to remove the shelves in the event someone needed this as a hiding place.

"_I saw 15 or so out there, you?"_

"_There's a lot more than 15 – I could hear some more pretty far off. I must have been dozzin' that I didn't hear the first group 'til they were close. It's a herd for sure – but they're spaced out."_

"_What do we do?"_

"_Stay here, and hope they don't take interest in the house."_

It didn't seem like a very convincing plan, but I didn't have any better ideas at the moment. Daryl and I stood silently, both of us leaning against opposite walls of the pantry. It was completely dark, and I wouldn't have known he was there except for his steady breath. I kept my hands in my pockets, trying to warm up. Once cold settled into my bones, it was hard to convince it to leave. I wish I'd thought to grab the blankets as I'd followed Daryl to the pantry – he had said it might be a long night. At least Lizzie and Mika were pretty comfortable and warm. Their cupboard contained all the extra blankets, and they could probably stretch out fully and just sleep through the night.

After what must have been almost an hour, I sank to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest. I hadn't planned on spending the night in this pantry without blankets, in a wet t-shirt, with Daryl – who wasn't even gentleman enough to offer the poncho he'd pulled out of his pack before starting his watch. Just as I was really beginning to resent him, and feeling a teeny bit jealous of Lizzie and Mika's much more comfortable arrangements, Daryl slid down the wall, landing with a small thud on the floor. He stretched out his legs so that his feet were resting flat on the wall on either side of me – my own legs still uncomfortable hugged to my chest. What an absolute rat.

"C'mere."

I didn't understand what he meant at first.

"What?"

"You're cold, and we're going to be in here all night. You really planning on sleeping all balled up like that?"

"Uh? I guess?"

"Whatever. Here."

The warm poncho gently hit me in the face.

"Won't you be cold?"

Daryl muttered, or maybe grunted.

"What?" I was saying 'what' a lot in this conversation.

"Just want ya' to be comfortable." He started rubbing his hands together.

This guy looked tough, but he actually seemed pretty shy and reserved. Suddenly, I understood his original intent with 'c'mere'.

"You look cold, Daryl. Do you mind if I come over? That way I can stretch out my legs too."

"Sure – just as long as you're comfortable . . ." He trailed off.

I spun around to face the wall and pushed my legs out myself between Daryl's legs. Somewhat awkwardly, I leaned back into him. I could feel almost every muscle in his body was tense. It could have been the situation outside the house, but I had a feeling it was being this close to a woman. I settled the poncho over the both of us like it was a blanket. The warmth of the poncho-turned-blanket was heavenly. I could feel Daryl fidgeting a bit, trying to figure out the least offensive place for his hands. Finally he settled them on his legs. I could feel the warmth of his arms running along my own. It was definitely welcome. It probably would have been better – strictly in terms of physical comfort – for him to wrap his arms around me. I didn't suggest it though; I wouldn't want to make things weird at the end of the world.


	7. Chapter 7 - Rude Awakening

I awoke to the pantry door rattling. Daryl must have heard the approach, because he had his knife in one hand and the other over my mouth. I moved my hand to my belt to retrieve my own knife, and I felt Daryl's hand leave me as he slid up the wall into a crouch. He looked at me and nodded, a finger pressed to his lips. He ripped open the closet door.

"Can we go now?"

Lizzie was standing just outside the pantry, her eyes drooping with apparent boredom. Her sister Mika was nervously poking her head out of the cupboards they had slept in.

"I thought I told you not to come out before we came got you?"

"You took too long! I went outside and checked; there aren't any people outside."

Daryl looked uneasy. I don't think he'd spent a lot of time around children. He started to say something, but then shook his head and went to check outside.

"I told Lizzie not to leave the cupboard but she wouldn't listen!" Mike said, still firmly planted in the hiding spot.

"You did well, sweetheart! Lizzie, I know you're trying to be brave, but the dead men – the walkers, they're dangerous. You know that, right?"

"Well, Carol told us not to be afraid, and that we have to be strong, ma'am."

"And that's great advice! She'd also tell you to listen to the adults you're with, right?"

Lizzie looked at the ground sheepishly.

"We're not mad, but we need to keep you safe. To do that, we need to know that you'll listen to us. Can you do that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I noticed Mika was still in the cupboard.

"You can come out now, sweetheart."

Mika looked unsure, and Lizzie went over and started tugging her out of their hiding spot.

"Come on Mika! Don't be scared of them – they're just people!"

"Lizzie, you know they're not people anymore!" Mika practically screamed at her – this wasn't a new argument to them.

"Yes they are!" I could see tears starting to form in Lizzie's eyes. "They're just lonely! They're just like us!"

"Enough, girls! Let's pack everything up and get a move on."

My first impression of Lizzie _was_ right – she most certainly was an odd duck. Mika was younger, but she seemed to have a better grasp on the reality of the situation than Lizzie.

There wasn't much to pack up – we just folded up the blankets and put away the candles. Daryl stood outside the open door, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Mika, Lizzie, and I moved toward the door.

"I almost forgot!" I dug around in my pocket and found the envelopes of seeds Rick had given me. I crossed the floor swiftly, pried up the loose floorboard under the table and slipped the envelopes in.

"Y'all done filin' yer nails, _sweetheart_?" Daryl seemed impatient – it was the most sarcastic use of the word sweetheart I'd ever heard. I rolled my eyes and moved out of the door, closing it behind me. There was no lock on the outside, only another hook. It worked to keep stray dead men from casually pushing their way in, but it wouldn't be much good for anything else. The four of us started out, again with the two girls leading in the front, Daryl and I following single file in back.

Mika turned around, walking backwards to look at us. "You shouldn't smoke! My momma used to say it's bad for you!"

"Yeah? What in this world ain't bad for ya'?" The corner of Daryl's mouth was curled up in amusement again. He must have been touched by Mika's concern.

"Girl's got a point dude." I chimed in. "The walkers could probably outrun you."

"Y'all can just can it, you're muckin' up my zen."

Everyone except Lizzie laughed; she just kept trudging forward.

As the girls walked ahead a little, I slowed down so that I was walking beside Daryl. Small talk didn't work with Daryl, so I just got right into it.

"Is Lizzie alright?"

Daryl looked puzzled. "Hmm?"

"I mean, I don't think she understands the walkers are dangerous."

"Yeah, she thinks they're sick or somethin'. Carol's been trying to teach her. She says Mika's too afraid 'n Lizzie's not afraid enough."

"And what do you think?"

"I don't know shit about kids, but both ways of thinkin' have their advantages."

Welp, that was another conversation with Daryl Dixon finished. I sped up a little bit to fall back into our single file. Just as my mind was starting to wander, wondering if there were any wild mushrooms in the area, Daryl's voice jolted me out of my daydream.

"You uh . . ." Wow, this sounded painful for him.

"What did . . . were ya' doing before everything went to shit?"

"Nothing much – I'd just finished a biology degree at college, and I was temping in an office. What about you?"

"So you're smarter than me?" He ignored my question to him. He sounded a little defensive. I wonder if he did something illegal, like a biker gang or a dealer. He definitely dressed the part – big leather boots, a leather vest with angel wings on the back, and the shirt underneath had its sleeves cut off.

"I can probably contrast plant cells and animal cells better than you, but as it turns out, that doesn't count for much."

"Not much counts for much now."

"Even before everything went to shit, it didn't turn out to be a very useful skill. I'd say you're much better placed in this world than me. You can hunt, camp, fight . . . " I trailed off. Daryl was silent for a moment.

"Girl like you wouldn'ta looked twice at me before all this shit happened." Daryl mumbled the sentence more than was usual even for him. His voice was tinged with embarrassment.

"That's not true – you're great, you-"

"You probably had some dumb college boyfriend?" Daryl's tone was quieter, yet more aggressive this time. Mika broke the tension. She ran up, a proud smile on her face.

"Del, I found this mushroom, can we eat it?" With great excitement she held up a medium sized mushroom the colour of coffee with far too much cream. I took it, my brow furrowed.

"Um, maybe. Can you show me where you found it?"

Mika led us off the trail just a bit, and pointed down. I looked down and found what I was looking for – many more mushrooms of about the same size and colour. They were arranged in a ring around a tree with a huge trunk.

"Well done, Mika! This is called a fairy ring – these mushrooms are definitely good to eat. I used to pick them all the time."

We all went to work picking the mushrooms. Lizzie undid the kerchief that she'd had tied around her head – given to her by Carol no doubt – and started filling it. I'd soon collected as many as my hands could comfortably carry, so I circled around to the back of the tree where Lizzie had gone to pick. I dropped what I'd harvested in horror.

"Lizzie what are you doing!" I angrily snatched Lizzie's hand back from the danger, throwing her to the ground in the process. It was just half a torso, without enough fight left in it to even raise its one semi-intact hand. It had long, dirty blond hair that covered its naked, rotting rib cage – the breasts had either rotted or eaten away. It hadn't even been able to snap its jaws at me; it just sort of weakly turned its head and listlessly opened its mouth, letting out a rattling breath. Removing my knife from my belt, I drove it through the eye socket of the dead man. Dead _woman_ I should say. Maybe it was more practical to call them walkers.

Lizzie sat behind me, stunned.

"Lizzie, what were you doing?" I was desperately hoping she was going to say she didn't see it.

"You killed her! You killed her! She was just hungry and I was going to feed her!"

I saw a mushroom clutched in the hand I'd snatched back from the dead woman.

"You killed her! She was my friend!" Lizzie turned and started running away from the river bed and into the trees, but Daryl was faster. He lunged and caught Lizzie by the waist. She struck out desperately with her fists and feet, struggling to escape Daryl's grasp. Daryl just held her and resolutely ignored her blows. Finally, Lizzie went limp.

"C'mon – we gotta move. Who knows who heard that." He picked up the deflated Lizzie and half hung her over his shoulder in mid-stride. I quickly gathered up the spilled mushrooms and took Mika by the hand.

"What's wrong with my sister, Del?"

I didn't answer.

* * *

**Please review! I love to hear from you guys. I've already gotten some great suggestions that I'm working up to include in upcoming chapters. 3!**


	8. Chapter 8 - Unexpected

By the time the back wall of the church came into view, the sun had come out. Daryl had taken Lizzie off his shoulder after some time, and she'd obediently resumed a sullen march. Except for the mood of the group, it was a truly spectacular day.

"Del, you mind walkin' the girls inside? I'ma head down to the water. I ain't takin' no sponge bath." Without really waiting for my response, he spun and headed down for the creek.

"Sure. Thanks." It's not like he gave me a lot of choice in the matter, but I guess he'd had enough of the ladies. He seemed like someone who valued his private time.

We walked in the front gates. I had expected to see Carol there, waiting for the girls, but Rick greeted us instead.

"How'd everything go?"

I wasn't sure how to answer. Maybe he wasn't the right person with whom I should discuss the particularities of our journey. Carol seemed to be responsible for these girls – even though she clearly wasn't their mother. Anyway, she was probably who I should see.

"Fine – I'm sure you guessed we spent the night. There was a herd, but it was spread out and just passed right by the house. Have you seen Carol around?"

"She's out on a run. I think there's still some lunch around if you and the girls want to head to the kitchen area. Beth's there and can take care of it if you need to rest. I guess Daryl's out doing what he does?"

"Yeah, something like that. I think I might send the girls up or lunch. I think I might go look around a bit outside."

"You sure you can handle yourself?" Rick looked skeptical. I was a little bit insulted. I'd been just fine on my own for months before I'd found this group. I really should have just appreciated the concern.

"Yes – I'll be fine." Daryl had a point. A bath sounded incredibly appealing, and yet a sponge bath didn't have quite the same allure. I remembered I had a mini bottle of body wash stashed in my pack that I'd been hoarding since finding it in a bed and breakfast I'd spent the night in. This seemed like the perfect time to break it out.

Soon I was headed back out into the forest. I'd brought a couple of peaches along for lunch, eating one as I walked. The forest was silent – the group must have gone out recently and done a sweep for any dead men in the area. As I approached the creek, I wondered if Daryl was still around. I hope he didn't mind the company. I reached the bank, looking up and down the creek for him. I found him pretty easily – he'd chosen the section of the creek directly behind the church. He'd found a huge, smooth rock and stretched out. His pants were rolled up to his knees, and his usual vest and sleeveless shirt ensemble was lying in a heap next to his crossbow and knife. He must have just finished bathing; I could see droplets of water glittering on his skin, his usually messy hair slicked back. His eyes were closed and his hands were thrown back, cradling his head. At first I was struck by the unusual sight of Daryl Dixon with his guard down. Then I remembered sleeping against him last night. I remembered resting my head on his muscled chest, his well-defined arms resting on either side of me. A breeze brought the smell of a nearby pine to my nose, evoking a blurry memory of the first time I met him when he lifted me from the closet.

I felt awful. I shouldn't be thinking this way. Firstly, I was probably a bit young for Daryl and almost _definitely _not his type. It's pretty common advice not to date people you work with – and I'm sure the advice is doubled when you're working together and living together at the end of the world. All that aside, there was the problem of Eric. I hadn't thought of him in months – I mean, there wasn't really much point. He was probably long dead. He'd been a good man, and he'd proposed only a few months before everything went down. We'd been together for four years, and he was close to ten years older than me, so it was definitely time for us to move to the next level. I wasn't sure I'd loved him – but I couldn't deny that he would make a good husband and father, so I couldn't think of a reason to say no to his proposal. He always took out the garbage, he kept in pretty good shape, and I wouldn't ever have to worry about him cheating on me. He was good with kids, and he'd had a steady job crunching numbers at a bank for several years. He didn't have a drug problem, and only drank socially. Despite all these great points, something seemed to be missing. There was always a kernel of doubt wedged in the back of mind where our relationship was concerned. He did some things that drove me crazy – like flushing the toilet _before_ he was done peeing, or constantly nagging me about keeping the house cleaner. But wasn't that all couples? I always rolled my eyes when people said things like, "Oooh, I found him. He's the _one_." Fuck that – I've always been a realist. My goal was to find someone who would make a good husband and father, and who's bullshit I could put up with somewhat better than most other peoples'. The last time I'd spoken to him had been a few days after the outbreak, just before my phone stopped working. He'd been away in Fort Wayne, Indiana training some people at a branch of his bank. I'd told him about my plan to go with my mother and sister to the nearest refugee centre. That was when we'd all thought that the government would have this whole mess sorted out in a few days, or a few weeks at the very worst. He was trying to find a way back to our home in Louisiana. I doubt he ever made it. While he was a wonderful provider when the world was right, this was a guy who brought his car to the dealership to get it detailed on the regular, and maybe loved shoe sales just a little bit more than me. He'd never been camping in his life, and I'd never managed to convince him to come out with me. Even if he was alive, it was doubtful I'd ever see him again. So, was I still bound to be faithful to him? I'm pretty sure the answer was a resounding _no_. Still, I had a terrible feeling of guilt as I gazed at Daryl lying on the sun dappled rock.

Something must have caught his attention, because Daryl peeled open one eye to look in my direction.

"Can't a man get some peace 'round here?"

"Sorry – I uh, I was thinking of just rinsing maybe . . ."

"You kickin' me outta my spot?"

"No – um, I can go further upstream. I think it's a little deeper there anyways."

"How about you trade me that peach for my spot?"

"Sure." I tossed him the peach, feeling a little bad I was taking over his spot. He caught it in one hand, and gathered his things in the other. He sauntered up to me, still without his shirt on.

"You gonna be alright out here?" Looking me dead in the eyes, he bit into the peach, the sticky juice trickling down his chin. For whatever reason, I wasn't insulted like when Rick asked me the same question.

"I was fine on my out here for quite some time."

"Alright."

With that, he climbed up the bank and disappeared in the direction of the church. I was alone and it was nice. I've never been shy about my body, so I didn't wait long to strip completely. I waded into the creek, which didn't go much higher than my knees. The water was warm and slow moving. I dunked in and lathered my body up. Next I did my hair – pre-end of the world I would have shuddered at the thought of using body wash on my head, but at this moment it felt like heaven. I rinsed and looked around. It was still completely silent. I decided to take in a bit of sun and relax. I laid down on the massive rock that Daryl had been on. It was remarkably smooth and it had been warmed. I stretched out luxuriously and closed my eyes.

I was exhausted from the night before, and the warmth of the sun and the heat from the rock quickly had my eyes drooping.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed when I heard a splash. I lazily cracked open my eyes, thinking it was a stray squirrel.

A dark shadow blocked out the sun, and a gasping, rattling breath escaped its lips as it reached for me. I screamed and rolled off the rock, falling painfully on the creek bed. The dead man fell onto the rock as I scrambled backward. I saw second dead man stumbling down the opposite side of the bank. _Shit_. I was too panicked to search through the mound of clothes I'd thrown on the ground for my knife. The first thing my hand landed on was a rock. I heaved it out of the mud and swung it with both hands at the approaching creature, knocking it down to the ground. I turned to the second one and quickly smashed its head once, twice, three times with the rock until its head was mush. Just as I finished, trembling with relief I heard an excited moan from the first creature as it grabbed my arm – I must have only stunned it with the first blow. Before I could react, I heard the clean swish of an arrow and the creature collapsed before me, an arrow penetrating the base of its skull.

Daryl was standing just above me on the bank. He was just lowering his cross bow – and the only thing I was wearing was the blood from the dead men. He looked like he was about to say something, but then it dawned on him that I was completely naked. I saw a hint of red blossom in his cheeks before he quickly spun around to face the church.

"Can't leave those bodies in the creek. Why don't you uh, put somethin' on so we can move 'em."

"Yeah, just a second."

I waded back into the creek to rinse off the blood from the attack. I felt eyes on me, and out of habit I looked back in Daryl's direction. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw his head quickly jerk back in the direction of the church. I smirked with satisfaction; I don't think he minded what he saw.

"Alright, I'm decent."

"You know this ain't no Club Med, and you ain't really Holly Golightly." His voice was gruff, and he wasn't looking directly at me again.

I know, it was stupid of me to lie out alone in an unprotected area. I decided to answer him honestly.

"I know. I just wanted to remember the way things used to be – and though I appreciate the assistance, I had the situation under control. "

He huffed and rolled his eyes. We started moving the bodies out of the creek bed and up to the bank. We piled up brush and fallen branches so that we could burn the bodies. It was easier than burying them, plus who knows what their rotting flesh would seep into the ground. Daryl set the fire with his lighter, and we turned to walk back to the church.

"Hey – I thought you had gone back in? How . . ." I wasn't sure how to phrase my question without sounding accusatory.

"I wasn't far – I figured I'd stay in the area see if I couldn't catch something. Didn't trust you not to fall asleep on that rock in the sun."

"So you weren't watching me?" Okay, now I was being a little flirtatious.

Daryl looked genuinely offended. "_Hell no_ – I ain't a perv."

I couldn't help but laugh. I liked making him uncomfortable – especially because he made it so easy.

"So it must be that you want to make sure I stick around."

He rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, sure, I guess somethin' like that."

"Admit it, you'd miss me if I was gone."

He gently put his hand on the small of my back. "C'mon. Wouldn't want to miss dinner after you spent all that time prettyin' up."

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**Thanks to everyone who inspired me via reviews and PMs - I appreciate them all so much! I think Daryl might have a little crush on Del. What do you think?**


	9. Chapter 9 - Forever

As Daryl and I approached the gate, we saw a lone dead man on its knees pressed up against it. Actually, it was a dead woman. I really did have to get used to calling them walkers, I guess. It was the end of the world, but I should really try to be politically correct. Something had the walker excited – it must have spotted someone on the inside.

"I got this one," I said as I confidently strode forward, knifing the thing at the base of its skull. I was secretly hoping this might impress Daryl. I restrained myself from looking back at his face to see his expression; it's so important that you never _look_ like you care if the person you're trying to impress is impressed – it ruins the whole effect.

Without much more thought, I went to slide the gate open.

"Hold up – it's got flesh stuck in its teeth." Daryl was kneeling next to the downed walker, examining it.

"It must have caught up with a squirrel or something – it's not full-looking enough to have eaten much more than that." I shuddered as I recalled the sight of a well-fed walker. It had been at the refugee camp. There had been a massive breach of the fences and a bunch of them got in. Half the camp had been wiped out. A small group of us – including my sister Jana – had survived by hiding in what had been a small military airplane hangar. After most of it was over, we came out to horrors we never could have dreamed. Most of our friends who hadn't made it to the hangar with us had turned. In most cases, there wasn't much left of them to put down. The walkers who'd originally breached the fence were mostly collapsed under the weight of their gluttony, slouching on the ground. While all were swollen with food, some of them were so stuffed their bellies had partially burst. This walker looked nothing like that.

Daryl grunted. "Must be – but I don't see any hair or nothin'. It's weird."

I shrugged, and we continued in. If one of our people had been bitten, we'd definitely hear about it quickly. There was no one in the yard – but that wasn't unusual given that it was dinner time. Normally, there should have been someone on watch. Just before we entered the main doors, we spotted Caroline off to the side, catching the last rays of the dying sun. Her eyes were hidden under a pair of jeweled designer sunglasses, her breathing heavy and rhythmic as she no doubt dreamed of being at fabulous parties. I exchanged a glance with Daryl. She was definitely supposed to be on watch, but I sure as Hell wasn't going to be the one to wake her. There was already enough tension between us since Beth and I had convinced the group to eject her sleazebag of a husband. Daryl snorted derisively. He leaned much closer to her than necessary.

"_Yo_, Caroline!"

Caroline shrieked and nearly jumped out of her skin. When she saw it was just Daryl, she wrinkled her nose in disgust and irritation.

"What, in the name of sweet baby Jesus, did y'all do that for?" Her tone was sweet, but she was obviously annoyed.

"Aren't you supposed to be on watch? There was a walker clawin' to get in."

She looked affronted.

"I was-_am_ on watch. I can't kill those things on my own, and it's not considered good manners to interrupt dinner if it's just one."

I was amused for the moment at the thought of an apocalypse etiquette book: _Do's and Don'ts When the Dead Rise Up – A Hostess' Ultimate Guide to Staying Fabulous under Any Circumstance by Caroline Carson_.

"You were sleepin'." Daryl said as he eyed her.

"I most certainly was _not _sleepin', Mr. Dixon. I was just reposing. Ain't no reason a lady can't be both comfortable and keep watch."

Daryl just rolled his eyes and continued into the church.

We left Caroline, now fully awake, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest and clearly pouting. We found the kitchen area where people were just tucking into a spaghetti dinner. It was everyone's favourite. It was one of the few meals that reminded everyone of when the world was whole. A few cans of crushed tomatoes, even some fresh from the garden, and dried herbs and spices, and some dried spaghetti and voila! Glenn waved us over.

"Hey guys! Welcome to Spaghetti Tuesday on Wednesday!"

I was impressed he knew the day of the week.

"How are you keeping track Glenn?"

Glenn laughed. "Oh, it's uh . . . it's more of this running joke. I don't really know." Glenn glanced at Maggie, and Beth who both seemed to be lost in a pleasant memory. I didn't press further.

I sat down beside Carol, and Daryl took a seat further down beside Rick.

"Hey Carol, have you talked to Lizzie and Mika since we got back?" I looked around and spotted Mika sitting with Carl, but couldn't find Lizzie.

"I only just got back from a run. I only just saw Lizzie before dinner. She said she was tired and wanted to go to sleep. She probably just has a bit of sunstroke or something."

"Yeah, maybe. I wanted to talk to you about her. Something a little strange happened on our trip back this morning."

Carol pursed her lips, concern flooding her expression.

"Lizzie found a walker, and she was . . . I'm not sure what she was doing, but I think she was trying to feed it. Then when I put it down, she got really upset, saying I killed her friend. Does she know what they are?"

Carol nodded slowly to herself, taking it all in. She didn't seem surprised by my report, though she definitely wasn't happy.

"Lizzie's having some problems. She's cold, and she's completely unafraid. I think she just thinks they're different, or sick or something. I'll try talking to her. I don't know what else I can say to her."

Carol returned to her food. She was silent for the rest of the meal. Maybe it was cruel of me to bring up such a morbid topic on Spaghetti Tuesday.

Soon everyone was done, and it was time for a group meeting about the upcoming schedule and plans. The children were excused from the table to play a bit before bed. The meeting was fairly standard. We went over the schedule for who would keep watch, the groups going on the next planned run, and the everyday duties. Just as we were getting to the end of the meeting, and Rick was asking if anyone had any other concerns they would like to discuss, Mika burst into the room with a look of terror on her face, and her hand clamped down on her opposite shoulder. I could see blood trickling down from her shoulder through her hand. Everyone was silent for a moment, processing the situation. How had she been bitten inside the church? Had one gotten in? Surely, Caroline would have noticed that. Everyone at the table seemed to stand at once. Those who had weapons drew them and broke into a run to do a sweep of the church and find the walker.

Carol strode over to a frozen Mika. She crouched down to Mika's level and put her hand on her unwounded shoulder.

"Am I going to die, Carol?"

Carol frowned, and looked at the ground.

"Let me see, Mika."

Mika removed the shaking hand that was protecting her wound. She revealed a perfect, round bite mark. There was no flesh missing, but I could clearly see the indentation where the teeth had pierced the skin.

A tear rolled down Carol's cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

"I'm so sorry Mika – it's not in a spot we can amputate. I'll stay with you to the end, and I'll make sure you don't come back."

Mika started sobbing and Carol held her close.

I sat still, expecting to hear screams marking the fall of another place I'd thought was safe from the dead men. After a few minutes, Glenn burst into the room. He saw Carol occupied with Mika, but he seemed to be looking for me.

"You used to be in biology, right?"

I just nodded, wondering what this could possibly have to do with anything.

"Okay, well, uh, I think there's something you need to see. Carol? You guys might want to come too."

Both of us confused, we followed Glenn. Carol picked up a limp Mika and carried her. He led us to where Mika, Lizzie, and Carol usually slept. It was a small room that might have once been a secretary's office. Standing in the room I could see Daryl, Rick, Maggie, and Carl standing around a bed. How had a walker gotten this far into the church with no one noticing? Seeing us arrive, they parted a little to reveal Lizzie, sitting upright on the mattress, leaning against the wall, a serene look on her face. She was very pale, and she was sweating. The smell of vomit overtook me as my eyes fell on a small pile on the ground beside the bed. Then I saw what everyone was staring at: a huge, gaping bloody wound on Lizzie's bicep. Lizzie smiled weakly and looked at Carol, who was still cradling Mika in her arms.

"Now we'll be together forever, and she won't be afraid. None of us have to be afraid."

As Lizzie's mouth stopped moving and returned to her eerily serene smile, I noticed some flecks of fresh blood on her lips.

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**Thank you so much to all my amazing readers! I am so gratefully for all my follows and favourites. Thank you so much to all my regular reviewers Mme Lestrange, Angelashortall, Tambrathegreat, Tenderheart702, and my newest reviewer MeiYin Chang! Please keep reviewing and I love your PM's with suggestions (****Angelashortall's to thank for the major plot point of this chapter). Keep the love coming! XOXO**


	10. Chapter 10 - Road Trip

We all stood in stunned silence. Carol passed a whimpering Mika to Maggie. Carol then slid down the wall next to Lizzie on the bed and put her arm around her, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"You're not mad, are you m'am? You'll still look after me and my sister, right?"

Tears were streaming down Carol's face as she nodded mutely, more to herself than anyone in the room.

"Ma'am?" Lizzie inquired, her eyes drooping closed.

"Mhmm," was all Carol could manage. That small sound seemed enough for Lizzie, because she let her eyes close fully and nestled herself into Carol's side.

Rick motioned the rest of us toward the door.

"Maggie, why don't you take Mika up to see Bob?"

Maggie nodded, and headed in the direction of the infirmary.

Rick, Glenn, Daryl, Carl, and I stood outside the door. Glenn gently closed the door, leaving Carol inside with Lizzie.

Rick was shaking his head, one hand on his forehead with the thumb massaging his temple. "How did this happen? How did she manage to get out and get bitten?"

Daryl spoke up, his voice low and gruff. "Killed a walker just outside the gate on my way in tonight. It had flesh in its teeth and was all riled up. Lizzie must have pushed her arm up against the gate for it."

"And no one saw her do this?" Rick sounded sceptical.

"It was fuckin' Caroline s'pposed to be on watch – woke her ass up when I walked in."

Both Daryl and Rick looked furious. Glenn broke the tension by addressing me.

"Del – uh, I was thinking you might know something about what we can expect for . . . I mean . . . uh . . . Mika? I mean you studied biology. Bob's got a lot of practical knowledge, but none of us have ever encountered this situation before . . . of uh, a human that was bitten and then biting another human?"

_Shit_. They were seriously overestimating how useful a science degree was. I started off slowly.

"Nobody really knows what this is right?"

Rick nodded. "We talked to the last scientist at the CDC – he said they have no idea if this is viral or bacterial or . . . something else."

"We _do_ know that a bite from a walker always kills. We also know that no matter how someone dies, they become one of them. What we don't know is when the mouth starts being able to communicate the deadly pathogen – it could well be _before_ the person has succumbed to the bite. It won't surprise you that I don't know the answer. What I do know is that a human mouth contains more bacteria than a dog's mouth, and human bites are prone to getting infected. Mika's best chance at surviving is keeping that wound clean, and starting her on some broad spectrum antibiotics."

Everyone seemed satisfied with my analysis. To be honest I don't think I even learned what I'd just said in school – I was pretty sure I saw it on the Discovery channel. I was wondering if maybe this disease was some kind of crazy fungus or prion; a prion disease would make sense. Too bad there was no one left to investigate that theory.

"We're low on antibiotics – we need to go on a run."

"Antibiotics have been on the run list for a while – we're definitely low. We might not have enough to treat Mika."

Daryl immediately stood up. "I'm on it – my bike can get through places none of y'all can in a car. I got room for one more."

Rick's eyes were downcast. He shook his head slowly. "I should probably stay here, and do what needs to be done when the time comes." We all understood what Rick meant. No one argued – none of us envied the job he'd taken upon himself.

"I'll go." All heads swivelled down to focus on Carl – everyone seemed to have forgotten he was still there. Judging by the looks on everyone's faces, it was apparent no one liked the idea. Carl was still a kid; he couldn't have been more than 14 or 15. He obviously wanted to be treated like an adult, but his father probably wasn't ready for that.

"Um, it might be helpful if I go. One useful thing about my biology degree is that I memorized the names of a bunch of antibiotics for micro."

Rick looked relieved at my suggestion – Carl seemed a little annoyed, but it was difficult to argue he'd be more useful on a run. Daryl looked indifferent.

"Meet me at my bike in five, Del."

I nodded, turning to jog to where I kept my gear. I stood over my small pile of belongings wondering what I should take. My knife was an obvious choice – beyond that I didn't know. It was almost dark, so I assumed we would be out all night – but we'd probably we searching all night instead of sleeping. I settled on travelling light. I re-dressed myself in dark wash jeans (light colours just weren't practical in a world without washing machines), a burgundy long-sleeve cotton shirt, and my boots. I tied a sweater around my waist, since it would probably get cold on the bike as the sun set. As I tied the sweater to my waist, I paused to examine it. It was a simple sandy grey color, obviously hand knit, with all sorts of twists, ribs, and eyelets. I wondered who had knit it. It had probably been knit by someone's grandmother. An intense sadness welled up inside of me when I realized that both the person who had knit this sweater and the person it was knit for were probably dead (or worse).

I could hear the rumble of Daryl's bike as I approached the gates. Rick was swinging the doors open as Carl drew his spear-like implement out of the walker he'd skewered from inside the fence. I swung myself over the back of the bike with much more grace and confidence than the last time I'd mounted it. Maggie burst out of the church just as Daryl had started scooting the bike forward out the gate.

Breathless, she held up a hand for us to wait.

"I just spoke with Bob – he's with Mika. He says we have enough antibiotics to last for at least 48 hours. We pretty much picked this area clean, so you might have to go pretty far out to find anything."

I should have packed a little more. Daryl just jerked his head in acknowledgement.

"Alright?" Daryl questioned, throwing a glance over his shoulder to me.

"Vaminos," I said as I wrapped by arms around his torso.

The sun was already low in the sky. There looked to be just a couple of hours of daylight left. It would have been nice to know what the plan was, but Daryl was a man of few words. I doubt he would have been impressed if I'd made us pull over to discuss road trip plans. Daryl seemed to have an idea of where he wanted to go, so I just let him drive. We drove fairly quickly along open stretches of road, only slowing whenever we hit a highway graveyard.

Just as it was growing dark, Daryl swerved into an almost hidden entrance way. The road (it was more of a trail, really) lead us up to a large looming estate. At one time it must have belonged to someone very wealthy. Despite being overgrown with ivy and the broken windows, it was still impressive. I could see the front porch was covered with muddied footprints. A herd must have passed through here no more than a day ago – otherwise the footprints would have been washed away by the rain. Something must have picked the walkers' interest. I could see their scratches on the door. They could have seen the shadow of a person, or it could have been as simple as a squirrel throwing a nut against the house. Daryl jiggled the handle to the door. He pounded on the door, then listened. A single walker pressed itself up against the window, clawing to get at us. I wonder how long she'd been trapped in there. Had she been the resident?

"I'ma go 'round back and check it out. You stay here, keep her distracted."

Daryl disappeared around the back of the house, while I stood, uselessly staring into the eyes of the monster. She was wearing a country dress that would have been stylishly retro at one time. She must have turned when appearances still mattered to some people. Her hair was dark and matted. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her lips had drawn back from now snapping teeth. I could see flecks of dried blood around her mouth. At least she wasn't hungry in death. My eyes moved toward her hands that were desperately trying to reach me through the thick glass of the window. Her fingers were leaving streaks on the window. Looking closer, I realized that most of her fingernails were missing. She must have been scratching for months - one could almost say years at this point - trapped in this once beautiful mansion.

My thoughts were interrupted as the tip of a bolt (Daryl had seemed _most_ offended when I'd referred to them as arrows) appeared in her forehead. She crumpled to the floor, revealing Daryl standing behind her. He strode to the door and unlocked it. I pushed my way in, the door bumping into the body of the downed walker. I left Daryl loading a bolt into his cross-bow and went to check the upstairs.

I made my way up the staircase and checked two bedrooms, the bureau, and a bathroom. Everything was in surprisingly good condition. The beds in both bedrooms were still made. Dust swirled lazily in the dying rays of sun light as I passed through the hallway and into the last room on the floor. The master bedroom was painted a warm, sunny yellow. There was a dramatic four poster bed in the middle and an antique vanity sitting opposite. There was a large suitcase on the ground, with summer dresses, hair styling implements, and shoes spilling out of it. I'd always loved fashion, but I'd never had the money to really indulge in it. I bent over to examine the contents. My eyes landed on a pair of red soles. I pulled out the most gorgeous (and ridiculous) pair of heels I could imagine. They were platform pumps with stiletto heels. As if the stiletto heels weren't enough of a statement, the shoes were completely covered in silver rhinestones. I smiled to myself. These shoes recalled memories of girls' nights, painted nails, cute dresses, and drinks served in martini glasses that had no business being called martinis. I unlaced my boots and slid my feet into the heels. I pushed myself up, wobbling a little as I gained my balance. I took a few strides toward the mirror that stood by the bedroom door.

Admiring the shoes in the mirror, a slight movement in the corner of the mirror caught my eye. I heard a low, gasping breath as a walker emerged out of the attached bathroom I'd neglected to clear. The thing lurched toward me, grabbing hold of my wrist with its cold, dead hand. I pushed back at the monster and we both fell to the ground. As it scrambled to grab hold of me again, I ripped one of the deadly beautiful shoes off my foot and drove the pointed heel into its eye socket. It collapsed with a sigh.

I fell back on my elbows, panting with relief.

"You look good in heels."

I looked up to see Daryl leaning casually on the door frame, his trademark smirk on his face.

"I . . . uh . . . I forgot to clear the bathroom." There was no way _not_ to make that sound lame. I got distracted by cute shoes. I just set the women's movement back at least thirty years.

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**Sorry this took so long to update! Please review or PM me :). I love hearing from you guys.**


	11. Chapter 11 - No

"He looks fresh," Daryl said, nodding toward the walker I'd just put down. It had a bite on its arm that was still oozing . This man must have been chased into the house by the herd, locked the door, and then been surprised by the walker inside in the country dress, and crawled up here to the bathroom to turn. Staring down at the walker, I saw it was wearing hospital scrubs. Not quite believing what I was thinking, I kneeled down and pushed the walker on to its back.

Daryl snorted. "Got what he deserved."

I found myself staring into the face of what was once Dr. Carson. I was horrified. Had my actions condemned this man to death? His actions were horrible, but did he deserve to die? Daryl must have seen the look on my face.

"Del, this ain't your fault. He did this to himself. What he did to you, what he did to Beth – that ain't right and he knew it."

"I know. But I still feel wrong," I muttered, casting my gaze out the bedroom window and away from Dr. Carson's corpse.

Daryl shrugged. "Help me move him – he's stinkin' up my room."

We moved both corpses outside of the house. We didn't bother burning them; we wouldn't be here long.

Daryl then stumped up the stairs to the master bedroom and disappeared. I followed him up, hesitating at the door to the master bedroom. I could hear his shoes hit the floor as he kicked them off. I didn't want to risk an awkward encounter with a half undressed Daryl, so I just called into the room, standing just outside the corner of the door.

"So, I guess we're staying here for the night, then continuing on in the morning?"

I heard a grunt. He had probably jerked his head in the affirmative. I wonder if he realized I couldn't see him?

"D'you have a destination in mind?"

I heard his feet hit the floor, and suddenly he was standing at the door. He was wearing a pair of plaid patterned cotton boxer shorts and nothing else. I could feel warmth rushing to my cheeks. I was really hoping that wasn't noticeable in the nearly dark hallway. His arms were folded over his chest, accenting his broad shoulders. His expression was adorable. His lips were pursed, and one eye was closed while the other one examined me.

"Why? You got someplace you gotta be?"

"Uh . . . no. I, uh, just thought-it's nice to know where we're going?"

There wasn't really a good reason that I _needed _to know anything I was asking. Daryl knew I didn't know the area, while he did. The old way of life was still ingrained in me – needing to know where we were going and when, so that I could decide which spin class to go to. His face relaxed as a smile spread across his lips. Motherfucker! He knew he was making me uncomfortable.

"There's a town a few hours from here. I got a place in mind."

"Great – first light we leave?"

"First light."

I turned to go to one of the smaller bedrooms down the hall. Daryl hadn't moved from the door frame.

"You gonna sleep in one of them other rooms?"

I swallowed hard.

"I was going to?" My voice went higher at the end of the sentence, turning my statement into a question.

Now Daryl seemed embarrassed.

"There's just two of us, and it's gonna be a long day tomorrow. Ain't no sense in each of us just sleepin' four hours while the other keeps watch. Better we sleep in the same room so if somethin' comes at us we're together."

Daryl could see my hesitation.

"Look, I ain't gonna touch you, if that's what you're worried about. I'll take the floor if 'ya want."

"No, no. You're completely right. We can definitely share it. The bed is huge, and besides, we already had our seven minutes in heaven right?"

Daryl looked confused.

"Uh, seven minutes in heaven? Remember, when you were a kid and you went to your first boy-girl parties, and you'd spin a bottle to choose someone to be in a closet with for seven minutes to do whatever?"

Great – now Daryl looked uncomfortable. I followed up quickly with, "But instead of whatever, you and the other person just stood on opposite sides of the closet, terrified?"

Daryl just nodded slowly, still eyeing me with confusion. I think we had slightly different childhood experiences.

"Uh, nevermind."

He turned and got into the bed on the side closest to the door.

"Close that door on yer way in."

Daryl's eyes were already shut before I'd even set foot in the room. The bed was huge – there was no reason this had to be awkward. I could see his clothing laying in a pile beside the bed. Would it be _more_ weird or _less_ weird if I just slept completely clothed? God dammit. I crossed to the other side of the room, settling for a compromise of kicking off my boots, wriggling out of my jeans and quickly swinging my legs into the bed and under the simple sheet, but leaving my shirt on. Sleep – like that was going to be easy.

I felt like I was just dozing the whole night. Closing my eyes, opening them to see an almost completely darkened sky. Closing my eyes again, and opening them again to look out at the black night sky. Every time I opened my eyes, it seemed as if we were getting no closer to dawn.

I felt a breath on my neck, and heavy, calloused hand slip around my waist. The hand slipped up into my shirt and over my breasts as I felt his body draw closer to mine. I pressed myself against him, and raised my hand to run it through his shaggy dark brown hair. The smell of pine was completely flooding my senses.

"Tell me this is what you want."

"Mmm, yes Daryl."

"Tell me what you want."

Then, I was facing him. Our lips crashed together like over-zealous teenagers. I could feel one of his hands gripping the back of my head, the other pressing the small of back closer to his body. My arms were wrapped around him, nails digging into his well-defined back muscles. He was fierce – aggressive, both with his body movements and his mouth. His tongue drove itself deep into my mouth, exploring, but then pulling away, so that I might return the favour. My eyes flicked open in surprise as I felt his teeth sink into my bottom lip startlingly hard. His sparkling blue eyes swam in my mind. I'd thought they were striking before, but maybe the pure light of the early morning sun was making them even more mesmerising than before. I felt him shift his full weight on top of me, pinning my arms above my head as he continued to kiss me fervently. I felt his lips curl up into a wicked smile, and his eyes glinted mischievously. He shifted so that he could keep holding both my hands above my head with only one of his. Now free, the fingertips of his other hand traced their way down my arm and along my ribs. Soon they found my stomach, making playful circles around my belly button, drawing his finger tips lower with each pass. His lips left mine and he started to move down my neck. With lingering, wet, kisses he made his way to my breasts. He greedily filled his mouth with my hard nipple, and the hand that had been pinning my hands above my head appeared on my other breast, massaging it, pinching the nipple gently between where his middle and pointer finger joined. His other hand that had been skirting my belly button had now made its way below my panty-line and was gently tracing where my leg met my hip. I couldn't help it, but a moan of anticipation escaped my lips.

"I think you like that." Daryl moved his head up to my ear, making the inside moist of with his breath. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you."

As the words left my mouth, I heard a rasping breath. A walker stood in the door frame. I tried to scream, but I found I couldn't. I tried to move, but I was paralysed. Suddenly, the walker was standing above us on the bed and I could see his face clearly. It was my ex-boyfriend. He descended on Daryl, tearing out a chunk of his neck, and tossing him aside like a rag doll. I saw Daryl's body slump on the floor, motionless.

"Eric, no, no, no . . ."

It didn't stop him – was this revenge? Did he remember we were engaged? I felt his hand close on my shoulder, and he descended on me.

"Del!"

I sat bolt upright, gasping, looking around wildly. It was dawn. I could feel Daryl's hand on my shoulder. Instinctively, I brought my hand to my cheek and felt the dampness of tears. My eyes found Daryl, fully clothed, and neck fully intact. He looked concerned.

"Uh, you okay? I went to take a piss, an' I came back and you were thrashin' around and moaning."

Oh God, what kind of moaning? Like, earlier in the dream moaning, or my un-dead fiancé is taking a pound of flesh moaning? Maybe the two moans were undistinguishable. Maybe I'd only been vocal towards the end.

"Yeah, just a bad dream. I dreamt I would never see those pumps I found last night again."

"If you think I'm lettin' you pack those things on my bike, you don't know me at all."

"I think you'd look nice in heels, Daryl."

Daryl rolled his eyes, but I could see a small smile on his lips.

"Get your ass moving, clown. We're gonna lose a life here."

I saw his eyes flick to my lips. Maybe he had a similar dream?

"Is your lip bleeding? _Damn_ you had a rough night."

"They're probably just dry . . ." How vocal was I? What did he hear, and what was he thinking I was dreaming about?

There wasn't much to pack up, and after a simple breakfast of peaches from the church and a sleeve of crackers we'd found in the house, we were back on the road.

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**Was it horrible and predictable to psych you guys out with a dream sequence? Del and Daryl will get together . . . eventually, but as I warned when I started this story it's gonna be a slow burn. Let me know in the comments what you thought about this chapter. I love hearing from you. Your wonderful words keep me writing!**


	12. Chapter 12 - 07-02-N-IV

After a few hours, the sun had risen into a clear blue sky. Daryl stopped his bike by a signpost that said: Edison: Pop 1,216.

"We walk from here – I was here 'bout a month ago, but a herd had this place taken over."

Daryl wheeled his bike off the road, hiding it in some brush.

We walked toward the town in silence. The outskirts of Edison were unremarkable. There were a few houses, most of them in shambles. A couple were burned out, and the rest all had their windows broken and doors kicked in. There were no signs of either the living or the dead.

As we drew closer to the centre of town, I saw four figures, leaning up against a pine tree in what was once someone's front yard. Wordlessly, I reached out and touched Daryl's arm to get his attention, nodding in the direction of the figures. I squinted, trying to see if they were alive, dead, or _dead_. Daryl raised his crossbow and motioned for me to stay behind him. We approached the figures silently – no point in trying to be discreet, there was no cover for us to hide behind. I began to wonder if this could be some kind of trap. Walkers would certainly never arrange themselves neatly around a tree, and reposing casually against an unprotected tree seemed an unlikely way to find humans – willingly, at least.

Daryl saw it first: "What the Hell?"

Finally, my eyes focused on what were clearly walkers tied to a tree. They must have finally seen us approaching because they were snapping and tugging at their restraints. These walkers looked quite decayed – the one facing us had a visible wound on its neck that was black and crusted with age. Daryl circled the tree, looking the walkers up and down. They were all tied to the tree with nylon rope you might find at a hardware store. Each one was tagged with spray paint on its chest with what looked like a code: U-00-B-I U-00-B-II, U-00-B-III, U-00-B-IV.

Peering up at the sun, and then to the snapping walkers. Daryl was the first to speak.

"Someone arranged them here like this on purpose – they're positioned to face North, South, East, West."

What I was thinking couldn't be right.

"I'm not sure what this is, but these have been here for a while – the bark is starting to grow over the ropes restraining them."

Daryl nodded, his eyes narrowed. "Let's get in, get out. The psycho who did this might still be around."

We continued on into the town, finding two more clusters of restrained walkers. All of them were restrained to a tree or a post, all were again labeled with spray paint, and all were arranged in the North-South-East-West orientation. Each cluster of walkers seemed to be in different stages of decomposition. I didn't want to say anything to Daryl before I was sure, but I was forming a theory about the motivations of whoever was doing this. I wished I'd brought a notebook.

Daryl stopped in front of a non-descript building and nodded. There was another cluster of four struggling walkers tied to a lamppost just in front.

"I had to bail my brother Merle out of here a couple times. This was one of his favorite lockups, mostly because he figured out how to scam pain meds from their pharmacy. I figure people might not have thought to loot here yet."

"Huh." I couldn't think of any other way to respond. Daryl Dixon did look like he'd have a brother who was in and out of jail – and I knew he was very sensitive to that fact. I thought it best to change the topic.

"You didn't see all these walkers tied up when you came here last time?"

"Nah, but I came into town from the other end. Like I said, it was a quick trip because this place was crawling with walkers. It's probably just some sick bastard with a lot of time on his hands."

"I think this is more than a sick bastard. This is was methodical, logical. I think this person was – or is currently – conducting an experiment."

"So we have to watch out for a Doc Frankenstein then?"

I nodded, concentrating on the way the walkers were labeled. I paced around the group. These ones were labeled 04-02-N-I, 05-02-N-II, 06-02-N-III, 07-02-N-IV and they looked fresher than the other groups of walkers we'd seen. In fact, while the first three snapped and struggled against their bonds to attack us, the fourth one simply hung limp against its ropes. I couldn't see any bite marks, but that didn't mean they weren't hidden by its clothing. I unsheathed my knife and used the tip to tilt the creature's head upwards. The eyes were closed, and there was a dribble of white froth coming from its mouth. I shook my head.

"Here's my theory. The roman numerals at the end of code are labeling the subjects one through four for each group. The first two digits look like a date to me – the first one looks like a month."

Nodding at the freshest body that wasn't moving, I continued, "It's labeled 07-02-N-IV. We're about July now, probably, and this one looks fresh. The second digit might have to do with the year, beginning with the year 0 when this all started."

Daryl looked impressed.

"Alright, well what do you think the letters in the middle stand for?"

I shook my head. "They could mean anything. I think the first group we found with U's at the beginning of the code might have an unknown date of reanimation. The other letter codes in the middle could mean anything."

"That one don't even look like he's turned yet. Someone strung this poor bastard up recently. But this ain't our problem – let's just get what we need and get out."

I drew my knife back, ready to plunge it into the corpse in front of me. Daryl caught my hand.

Daryl shook his head, "Del, we gotta leave 'em like this. Someone's runnin' this town, and they ain't gonna be happy you're messing up their science fair project.

I hesitated. The last part of my theory was perhaps the most disturbing. "Uh, I don't think this one died from a bite or a wound. The foam coming from his mouth makes it look like he was poisoned."

Daryl raised an eyebrow, whether it was because he was skeptical or concerned, I didn't get a chance to ask. As if cued, the corpse I had been examining drew in a slow, gasping breath and lifted its head.

"C'mon. Let's get this done, get out of here. We'll come back with more people if we need to."

I shrugged, and followed Daryl to the front door of the jail. He had drawn two long, thin metal rods from one of the pockets in his cargo pants and knelt to work on the lock.

"That's a good skill to have. How did you pick that up?"

Daryl paused and looked at me, one of his eyebrows cocked sarcastically.

"Where do ya think?"

Great. We're back to crabby Daryl.

After a few more moments of him fiddling with the lock, the door swung open. Daryl walked rather triumphantly into the jail with me following. It was dark in the jail and it took a few moments before I could see anything. The few windows it had were small and coated in grime. Everything was coated in a fine layer of dust – we must be the first people to set foot in here since everything went to shit. Daryl whistled, calling out to any undead who might be inside. After no one and nothing responded to his call, Daryl strode to the back, crossbow in hand. He walked into a small, unlocked office across from two holding cells. Without hesitation, he smashed the glass cabinets containing large white bottles of medication.

"Will one of these work for Mika?"

I peered at the bottles. I saw one labeled Amoxicillin and another labeled Tetracycline. I grabbed them both. They were huge bottles, definitely not for individual use.

"These are probably perfect for her, and anyone else who might get an infection."

Daryl grinned. I'd never seen him look that happy before.

"Might as well grab the rest – never know when some of this will be useful."

Daryl emptied the cabinet's contents into his bag and started on our way out the door. Daryl swung the front door open, the light of the noontime sun blinding our eyes that had adjusted to the darkness of the interior. He turned back for a second, smiling broadly, the outline of his body blocking the blinding sunlight streaming through the door.

"We might just save a lil' girl's life today, Del."

As a smile began to crack on my face, I saw a shadow from outside grab on to Daryl from behind and close its jaws onto his unprotected shoulder.

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**Please review! I love hearing from you guys. No, this is not a dream sequence. Depending on the feedback I get, I have two completely different ideas as to how this story can go . . . and I don't think either will disappoint. Let me know via review or PM if you think this is a good place to bring the fic to an end, or if you'd like to see it continue. Love you guys! Your reviews inspire me to write more and faster.**

**P.S. I can't lie - I definitely want to continue this fic, but I want people to find the story interesting! XOXO**


	13. Chapter 13 - Kiss

Without thinking, I plunged my knife through the top of the monster's skill, causing it to crumple to the floor. Daryl was ashen faced and speechless. His massive shoulders slumped forward in defeat. We both knew the creature's jaws had landed too far into his shoulder to amputate.

"Daryl, I-"

Daryl held up his hand, shaking his head. He didn't want to talk. There were no words.

"I'll bring ya back to where we left the bike. Then you're gonna leave me. I ain't goin' back – not like this."

I started to walk up toward him. I wanted to do something – anything to make him feel better. "Are you sure you want to be alone when . . . "

Daryl seemed to recoil from me and he snarled, "Leave me be, woman!"

"It doesn't have to be like this Daryl! Don't you want to say goodbye to your people? They'll want to thank you. You mean so much everyone."

"I ain't never mattered nothin' to anyone!"

"You fucking matter to me!"

"Well that doesn't matter a whole fuckin' lot now, does it Del?"

His words hurt more than I expected. The tears that were already welling up in my eyes began falling down my cheeks. Daryl seemed lost in himself. He ran his hand through his hair, his eyes focused on the ground. He turned abruptly and threw a punch at the wall beside the door, driving his fist straight through the dry wall.

I felt so helpless – I wanted to help Daryl, but there was nothing that could save someone who'd been bitten. The only person who I'd heard of surviving a bite was Hershel, Maggie's father, and that was only because Rick had quickly amputated his entire lower leg when he was bitten on the calf. I felt a rage rising inside me. I hated this world. It took everything away from you. First, it stripped away all your possessions. Then it took your home. Finally, it came for your people. I remembered how I felt in the closet where Daryl had found me – maybe it was better to die than to go on struggling to stay alive in this cruel world. Maybe part of the reason I was so fond of Daryl was that after all I'd lost – my home, my mother, my sister, my fiancé – he seemed like a constant. He seemed built for this world, like he had it figured out. I was blind with rage.

I lashed out at the only thing available to accept my blows – the corpse I'd just jammed my knife into. I kicked the lifeless body of the monster once, twice, three times. The third kick threw me off balance and to my knees. I continued my work with my fists, hitting the walker as if it were some kind of morbid punching bag.

Finally, I stopped. Panting and exhausted I fell back from my knees to sit on the floor beside the monster. I could hear Daryl breathing heavily behind me, choked sobs emerging every few breaths. I stared wordlessly at the monster, not ready to start our journey back towards the church, and towards the last time I'd ever see Daryl.

I looked closer at the monster. It was the body of the walker Daryl had stopped me from putting down before it turned. Its restraints must have been loose, allowing it to struggle free as we searched the inside of the jail. Its mouth was slightly agape, the blackness of the maw mocking me. Something seemed odd, as I continued to stare at its face. There was some blood on its lips, but it didn't look fresh. It was much darker than regular blood. How curious! I'm not sure what compelled me to do what I did next, maybe it was just an instinct with the knife still in my hand, or maybe I was hoping against all likelihood that Daryl's fate wasn't as sealed as I thought. I stuck the tip of my knife into the creature's mouth and pried it further open, fully expecting to see Daryl's flesh caught in its teeth.

My mouth fell open in surprise at what I saw. I was frozen in disbelief for a moment. Finally, sure of what I was seeing, I rose and with a few quick strides I was beside Daryl. I grabbed his wrist, tugging him out of the shadows of the jail cell and outside into the light. His face was expressionless. He may have been crying only moments ago, but he looked like he had already resigned himself to his fate. I didn't bother taking the time to explain, I simply pushed his shirt far away from the site of the bite. It was covered in blood – but again it was the old-looking, dark blood that I'd seen in the creature's mouth.

"Give me the water out of the bag Daryl."

"What?"

Daryl was too numb to follow my instructions. I didn't ask a second time, I simply grabbed for the bag and quickly extracted the water bottle. I dumped the contents on Daryl's shoulder, wiping the blood away with my sleeve.

"Del, it ain't no use. Ain't nothin' nobody-"

What I saw made me laugh a laugh of pure joy, of elation.

"Daryl – you're gonna be fine. It didn't break skin! You're probably going to have a bite-shaped bruise but you're going to be fine!"

Hope flashed in Daryl's eyes – but he obviously didn't understand what how this was possible.

"What the Hell?" He said, his eyebrows raised.

Neither of us had looked closely at the bite – Daryl had felt the creature bite down on his shoulder, and I had seen it. Daryl threw a cautious glance at his shoulder. Confused relief flooded his features as he ran a hand over the skin I'd just cleaned.

Mystified, Daryl wondered, "How is that possible – he went down hard on me. I felt it!"

I smiled.

"That sick bastard who's been stringing these people up as an experiment saved your life! He's been pulling their teeth after they died but before they turned."

Daryl bent over, his hands on his knees, overwhelmed with emotion. From what I knew of him, I had the impression that he'd dealt with anger, fear, loss, and disappointment so often he was expert at swallowing those feelings. Happiness and relief seemed almost like foreign concepts to him. He laughed an awkward laugh – it could almost have been mistaken for a sob or a strange cough. But when he straightened I could see a crooked, endearing grin on his face. Like the swift, fluid movement I made without thinking to take out the walker that had nearly ended Daryl's life, I stepped forward into his space, placing both my hands on his chest. Surprisingly, he responded by looping his arms around my waist in a sort of hug. Both of us had stopped laughing, but the smiles were still on our faces. I reached both my hands up to his face, placing one hand on either side, and purposefully lifted my lips to his.

At first he seemed stunned – my eyes were closed, so I couldn't tell if his eyes were open – but his lips stiff and unmoving. Just as I was pulling away, I felt his lips soften and mold to my own.

I opened my eyes and let my hands fall back to his chest. Daryl was blushing.

"We should be getting' back with the meds."

I nodded in agreement.

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**Thanks so much for reading - I loved all the reviews and PM's I got from the last chapter. So begin Daryl & Del . . . Please review! Hearing from you guys is the best - each review is like a lil' present for me. xoxo.**


	14. Chapter 14 - Return

Thoughts raced through my mind as we sped back toward the church. Would the antibiotics save Mika, or was she infected and beyond anyone's help? I wondered if Lizzie had succumbed to her injuries, and if so, how had Carol and Rick handled the situation? Carol wasn't Lizzie's mother, but she had clearly grown to become a sort of surrogate parent to both the girls.

Selfishly, I also thought of the kiss I'd shared with Daryl. What had it meant to him, if anything? He'd definitely seemed surprised by it, despite his arms clearly being around my waist at the time. Maybe it was just a moment of light-headedness from the relief of the discovery that his fate hadn't been sealed by the monster's bite.

It took a few hours to return to the church and darkness was falling as we rolled up to the gates. Michonne was standing guard with Carl. They'd kept the gates clear the whole time, anticipating our arrival.

Michonne greeted us on arrival: "You get what we need?"

Daryl nodded curtly as he delved into his saddlebags to retrieve the precious antibiotics.

Michonne watched Daryl's retreating back. "Anything happen out there?" she said to me, one of her eyebrows raised in apparent interest. "He seems a little quieter than usual." Could Daryl even _get _quieter than usual?

"You know Edison?" I questioned.

"Sure, I was there once on a quick run with Daryl. The place didn't seem worthwhile at the time. I'm surprised that's where he thought to try first; I don't even think that town had a drug store," Michonne recalled.

I shrugged, "We got what we needed and more. But someone's moved into that town since you were there last. We never saw them, but we saw their work." I continued on, explaining what we'd seen and my theory surrounding the bound and labelled walkers.

Michonne nodded silently, taking everything in. "You think that this person – or this group – is going to be a threat to us? Edison's far enough away, but not that far away," her eyes held mine with a steady gaze as she spoke.

I pursed my lips and looked at the ground. "I don't know," I replied honestly. I knew that this group had been driven from their previous sanctuary by a madman they simply called 'The Governor'. They had good cause to be wary of other groups trying to take what they had worked so hard to get. "But I think we need to be cautious – like I said, I think the experimenters poisoned whoever it was that turned and came after Daryl. Maybe he volunteered, but he looked pretty healthy other than the fact he was dead."

Disgust flickered across Michonne's face – she was all too familiar the kind of brutality this world could inspire. "We should see if we can't find them before they find us. They know someone had to put down their walker, and if they're smart they'll guess we can't be too far."

I nodded in agreement, "I'll come with you to scout tomorrow if you like – until then it might be a good idea to post-pone any non-essential trips outside of the walls."

Michonne just nodded again as she bent to take a seat before the gate.

It was uncomfortable, but I had to ask, "How are things here? Has . . ." I couldn't bring myself to finish the question about Mika and Lizzie. I didn't know them well, but seeing children having to deal with their own and others' mortality on such a regular basis was painful. What kind of adults would the children of the apocalypse grow up to be?

Michonne's lifted her steady gaze to meet my own, "Lizzie's gone. Carol put her down in the end. Mika hasn't changed much – she seems about the same. She has a bit of a fever, and she can't keep food down. She's scared for herself, and she's just lost her sister."

I exhaled loudly. I had been anticipating that Lizzie would be dead before we returned. As for Mika, it looked like her future was still unsure. The fever could just be the result of the infection she was battling from her wound, and the vomiting could be because of the antibiotics – or both these things could be the first stages of the thing that had just claimed her sister.

Michonne added, "We're having the service tomorrow - Rick already buried her in the back."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. It's strange how we're taught to fight back tears. If any situation called for tears, it was certainly the death of a child. I decided to change the subject, "How long have you been on watch, Michonne?"

"Too long," she sighed.

Michonne must have been exhausted – she was usually the last person to complain.

"Let me take over. I could use time sitting in one spot for a bit," I offered. "Are you waiting for anyone else coming in from a run?"

Michonne shook her head, "No, you and Daryl were the last today."

"Great," I replied, "If that's the case, I'm going to head up to the spot on the roof. Can you let Rick know if you see him?"

"Yeah. He'll already be asleep though – he was planning on waking to take the watch a couple of hours before dawn," Michonne informed me.

"Okay, well I'm sure he'll know where to find me."

Michonne and I walked toward the church. I waved goodnight as we parted, she to her bed, and me to my station on the roof. The roof was a nice place to be – it felt secret, it felt safe. It could only be accessed through a window in the topmost part of the church that had been mostly used for storage. The view from the roof was glorious. The moon was full and bright tonight, illuminating the forest around our hilltop church. I could hear the faint babble of the creek in back, and the rest of the church was surrounded by the silent woods.

After what must have been hours, I'd seen very little of interest. I'd seen one walker, then a pair of them. All three had passed by church without incident. If I'd been tasked with this job in my old life, I would have been bored out of my mind. At the present time, this was a relief. I wasn't running, I wasn't starving., and I wasn't cold or wet. Silence was a blessing in this world. If only I'd appreciated it before.

My peaceful concentration was broken by the noise of someone clambering through the window and onto the roof - Rick must have roused for his shift on watch.

Without turning my head, I called out to him in a hushed voice, "You can head back to bed if you want - I'm not tired, and there's no sense in neither of us getting any sleep."

"I ain't sleepin' anymore neither," Daryl responded. "Anything good on?"

I laughed, "Not really. I've been watching this terrible infomercial for the night sky."

Daryl took a seat a few feet behind me and leaned back on his elbows. "Make sure to write down the 1-800 number if they say it again."

I couldn't see him, as he was positioned behind me, but I could feel his presence on the roof. So we sat together in silence, watching the night sky, waiting for the dawn.

What we didn't know at the time is that someone was watching _us_.

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**OooOoOOOo! I started writing another story you guys might like called "We, The Glorious Dead". I started writing it mostly because I was starting to feel a little trapped by the first person narration style I chose for this story. Anyways, check it out! I kind of hate the title, and so if you read it and have suggestions on a better title please let me know via comment or PM!**

**A big thanks to all my wonderful reviewers and readers - truly, I get so excited whenever I read a new review or see a new follow/favourite.**

XOXO!


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